Misao's Braid
by Rainchaser
Summary: One-shot. Misao as a child, kenpo, a knife, and a hair-cut. Confused? I know I am...


Disclaimer: Although I now own a spiffy model of Yahiko – yay! – I still don't own RK or any of the characters. I suspect I may never recover from the trauma of this... *sniffle* 

~*~*~*~ 

Um.. yeah. This can be blamed on being smacked in the face by my braid once too often during a Tae Kwon Do training session – actually, once is once too often, although sadly I rarely get through a session without it happening... *sigh* 

Anyway.. I have this mental image of Misao as a very volatile child – in this story she's about six – full of energy, and prone to changing moods easily... quick to smile, anger, and cry. My portrayal might seem a little off, but the story ran away with me... 

This is probably linked to the story that I'm writing at the moment (or more accurately, at the moment I'm researching...) and as such doesn't really have much plot – it's just a brief snapshot of a moment in time. 

One last note – there's a couple of random names to be found in the text – I figured that there were probably at least a few different/extra people around in this time period. 

Onwards! 

~*~*~*~ 

  
Early morning sunlight slanted through the branches of the trees in the gardens surrounding the Aoiya, leaving long shadows and haloing the outline of the man standing in the centre of a patch of lawn. His audience squinted against the light as she sat bolt upright on the grass, apparently unaware or uncaring of the dewdrops that glittered among the short stems. 

Hannya smiled behind his mask, glad he didn't have to worry about concealing his amusement, as Misao struggled not to bounce with excitement as he demonstrated a kenpo move for her. He held the final pose for a few seconds, then relaxed and moved to stand in front of her. 

"Think you could manage that, Misao-chan?" he asked, trying to keep the amused affection out of his voice, and not entirely succeeding. Luckily, it didn't matter. 

"Yes!" Misao nodded eagerly, and bounced to her feet. Managing a fair imitation of the stance he'd started in, she took a quick step forward. Turning the movement into a spin, she crossed her wrists then launched the strike as her momentum carried her back round... 

_Thwack._

She stopped dead, mouth falling slightly open as she reached up to rub the eye that had just been so rudely assaulted by her braid. Sniffling slightly, she stuck her lower lip out petulantly. 

_Oh dear_... All too familiar with the expression, Hannya crossed the – admittedly short – distance between them in record time. _Don't let her start crying... _please_ let her not start crying..._ "Misao-chan?" 

She stared up at him, lip trembling ominously. "I couldn't do it! I... I..." She hiccupped. "It's not fair! Why doesn't your hair do that?" 

He chuckled softly, earning an outraged stare. Glad that she didn't seem inclined to start crying, he dropped to sit cross-legged in front of her. "I don't have a braid like you do," he pointed out, ruffling her bangs with one hand. 

Her pout eased into a thoughtful scowl. "So if I cut off my braid, my hair wouldn't hit me in the face anymore?" 

Hannya winced. "Um... I really don't think that would be a good idea, Misao-chan..." 

"Why not?" 

"Ahh..." _What to say, what to say... Okina-san will kill me if I don't get rid of this idea fast..._ "Because you're a lady. Ladies have long hair-" 

"But some men have long hair," Misao pointed out, looking increasingly confused. 

"Yes, but..." 

"It's not fair! Why can't I have short hair if I want to?" The pout was back, growing to dangerously large proportions. 

"Because... because..." 

"You're just being mean to me!" A tear trickled down her cheek. 

"No! That's not it-" 

Too late. The first tear was followed by another, and then another, until Misao was sobbing openly. 

"Misao... Misao-chan, I didn't mean it like that, honestly I didn't..." Hannya tried futilely to stem the flow, but Misao merely stared straight ahead, ignoring him completely. Finally he sighed and flowed to his feet, heading inside in search of one of the two people who could stop Misao from crying herself sick when she was in this sort of mood. He just hoped he would be successful, and that he wouldn't have to go in search of the other one... 

~*~ 

Left alone in the garden, Misao sniffed and wiped her eyes with a grubby fist, trying desperately to stop crying. _Oniwabanshuu don't cry..._

The thought wasn't enough to stem the tears, and she pouted. There was no reason for Hannya-san to say she couldn't have short hair, really there wasn't. Okay, so Jiya often went on about how much she reminded him of her mother with her long hair, but surely he wouldn't mind either... 

She sniffled a little more and pouted, admitting to herself that the rest of the people at the Aoiya would probably find plenty of reasons why she shouldn't cut her hair. And she couldn't think of a single lady she knew who had short hair... 

_No good. They won't let me..._ Her thoughts were interrupted by a glitter in the grass by the base of one of the trees, and she tilted her head to one side curiously. _I wonder what... oh! Didn't Reizo-niichan lose a knife when he was out here last?_

Pleased that she'd be able to cheer her friend up by finding the knife – one of Kita-san's best kitchen knives, and the cook had _not_ been happy – she crawled over and retrieved it. Returning to her original seat, she tilted the knife from side to side, admiring the way the sunlight ran along the edge. It was a _very_ sharp knife. 

It didn't distract her for long, though, and soon she could feel the tears threatening to spill over again. _Not fair, not fair, not _fair_! No one minds how long a man's hair is... _As the words ran through her head again and again, she started absently jabbing the point of the knife into the ground, unconsciously increasing the force each time. Finally she hit a stone, the loud chinking sound and the rebound distracting her from her thoughts. 

She stared at the knife in her hand. Why not? Why not indeed? Without bothering to think things over, she grabbed her braid in her hand and started sawing fiercely at it behind her head with the knife... only to be interrupted moments later. 

"Misao? What _are_ you doing?" The voice was superficially unconcerned, but to Misao it was as if the owner had shouted his concern for all the world to hear. Her head jerked up and she stared, knife dangling loosely in her hand, forgotten. 

"Aoshi-sama!" She dropped the knife and charged the somewhat older boy, flinging her arms round his legs and burying her face in his hakama. She hadn't seen him for nearly a week, and she knew that she wasn't supposed to bother him now that he was okashira and was busy with all the okashira-business, but she missed him _so_ much! 

His expression softened slightly, and he ruffled her hair with one hand much as Hannya had done earlier. "Good morning to you too, Misao. So just what were you doing?" 

"Umm?" She looked up at him, fresh tears threatening to spill over. "Hannya-san showed me some kenpo but my hair hit me in the face and he said I couldn't cut it off and... and..." 

"And so you tried to cut it off yourself," he finished for her, and she nodded before hiding her face again. 

He let out a soft sigh and reached down to disentangle her from his clothes, taking her by the hand before she had a chance to protest. Leading her to a bench, he sat her down before sitting next to her. "Just why do you want to cut it off?" 

"Because it hit me in the face!" Misao stared at him, wondering why she had to repeat something so obvious. "It gets in the way and it's useless and nobody likes it anyway and it would be so much easier if it was short!" 

He blinked at the sudden flow of information, a slight crease forming between his eyes. "But I _like_ your hair, Misao..." He stopped, looking startled, as if wondering where on earth that comment had come from. 

Misao looked equally startled. "You do?" 

He nodded hesitantly, still looking mildly confused. 

She let out a squeal and leapt at him, throwing her arms tightly round his neck. "Then I won't cut it! Ever!" 

"Tha... that's good, Misao. Now, would you mind letting me breathe?" 

Mortified, she let go of his neck and sat back down, a blush heating her cheeks. A moment later she was on her feet again, chasing after Aoshi as he walked over to where she'd dropped the knife. Picking it up, he cast a critical eye over it and glanced at her. "This is the knife that Reizo... 'borrowed', is it not?" 

She nodded, practically bouncing in place as he graced her with another small smile. No sign of her earlier mood remained except slightly reddened eyes and the drying tear-tracks on her cheeks. 

"Good." He handed it to her. "Will you take it to Kita-san for me?" 

"You're not coming?" Her good cheer faded noticeably. 

"I can't. I have a meeting shortly." 

"Oh. Okay. I guess..." 

He sighed. "I'll come and find you later, okay?" 

"Yes!" she agreed enthusiastically. Moments later all that could be seen of her were her heels as she disappeared around a corner, on her way to the kitchens. He sighed and shook his head. Hopefully Kita wouldn't decide that Misao's hair was past saving... schooling his face to neutrality in preparation for the forthcoming meeting, he continued on his way. 

~*~ 

"What on_ earth _did you do to your hair?" Kita demanded, hands on hips. The rather stout, matronly woman was used to seeing Misao in all sorts of disarray, but this... this was something utterly new. 

"Tried to cut it off," Misao muttered, staring at the floor. Shuffling a few steps further into the kitchen, she held out her burden with both hands. "Found your knife." 

Kita bustled across and took it from her, muttering under her breath when she saw the state it was in. Placing the knife to one side, she caught hold of Misao's chin, turning her head to the side and examining the damage. After a long moment she sighed and pointed to the steps outside. "Sit." 

Nervously, Misao obeyed. After snapping some curt instructions to one of the other cooks, Kita followed and sat herself down just behind Misao. Tugging at the damaged area of braid, she clucked disapprovingly and set about unpicking the mess. Minutes later Misao's hair hung loose about her face and the true extent of the damage could be seen. 

Kita stared down at the length of hair in her hand before looking back at Misao. The hair on the right side and at the back hung in glossy ripples to halfway down the girl's back, but on the left... on the left it feathered out raggedly just short of her shoulder, with the odd longer strand that had somehow avoided damage only making it look worse. She sighed. "There's nothing to be done – it's all going to have to be cut off and neatened up. I hate to think what Okina-kun is going to say." 

"Cut off?" Misao peered over her shoulder at Kita, eyes wide with worry. "You're going to cut it off?" 

"Yes, indeed. I guess you're going to get what you wanted." 

"But I don't want my hair cut! I want to keep it long!" It was practically a wail, and Misao scrunched in on herself, hiding her face in her arms. 

Kita stared at her in astonishment. "But you just tried to cut it off..." she protested weakly. 

"I changed my mind. Aoshi-sama said he likes it long." The announcement was rather muffled, and moments later Misao started shaking as she tried to hold in sobs. 

"So that's it..." Abandoning Misao, Kita hauled herself to her feet and set off along the path that would take her towards the okashira's office, ignoring Hannya as he came puffing around the corner and tried to snag her attention. 

"Kita-san, I need to talk to you..." the young man's call trailed off plaintively behind her as she marched off, not even hearing him. Instead, there was one thought running through her mind. 

_Aoshi, you have a lot to answer for. _

  
~*~   
End.   
~*~ 


End file.
